FAMILY wasn’t a word that was used in his dictionary. Blood, now that was something he could work with. Blood was valuable to one who lived off of such a liquid. Blood mattered, family didn’t. He had wanted a son, a creature much like himself to carry the bloodline. He had wanted a male, a disgusting, bloodthirsty, monster of a male. Instead he got her . This puny little femme that looked far too much like her mother. Pathetic really. Cleansed kissers lift in a slight snarl, left lip curling to flash a sharp dagger. Females were weak, worthless which is why he hardly hunted them. The feast wasn’t nearly as satisfactory when it was a female. They weren’t fighters, they weren’t a challenge, they were nothing to him but an easy bite to eat. The winter winds swirl around him, almost touching but not quite as if they are scared of the consequences that would come with such a daring action. Instead, they merely touch everything around him, those chilly fingers sliding along the barren floor.
MALIKYE grows impatient.
EARS fall upon a massive skull as those icy shards scan the terrain. His tail shifts from side to side, talons digging into the earth. She makes him wait on purpose, he is no fool. She comes on her own pace in a small, silent rebellion to the one who granted her such a glorious life. A flashback enters the crazed mind of the life giver but he pushes it back, unwilling to let guilt rise to the surface. He feels guilty of nothing, if anything he would be deemed guilty of actually caring too much. Which is why he stands here now like a king overlooking his kingdom only…his blood leads these lands. As if on cue, her slender form comes into view from afar. Masked face remains stoic as he awaits for her to draw near. He takes in the slow, deliberate way she walks. He takes in the way her hips sway gently to mimic the breeze. She has grown, but this means nothing to him. She is steady, like a pillar of strength she rises up the hill to meet with him. He knows though, he knows that beyond the façade of a fearless queen remains that weak little girl from which he fought so hard to destroy. Work was obviously, still needed.
EMERALDS reach his own blues as he glances at the tail that rises. Lips curl back into a sickening, small smile as his own head raises above her own, tail lifting to mimic, or outdo, whichever she preferred. Titles meant nothing to him. The fact that she was a queen meant absolutely nothing. Was the wraith supposed to be pleased? Proud? Did she want some sort of a blessing? The idea of her taking on the burden of a pack did quite the opposite. In fact, it disgusted him. Malikye snorts, dismissing any curiosity from her mind with a snarl. "Feeling lighter yet, Father?" So bitter, she is so bitter and yet it only gives him pleasure. He doesn’t answer her little battery, instead he ignores her, casting hooded eyes along her frame now that she is closer to him. His eyes then fall from her, once more scanning the cold wasteland. Expressionless, he turns back to her, eyes narrowing slowly. “Miss me?” His rhetorical question slides out of powerful jaws smoothly, a smirk forming upon an unreadable face.
HE rises, not waiting for an answer, and begins to circle his creation. Within the dark crevices of his mind he searches for answers, for things pleasing to the eye and comes up with nothing. He is far too close, hairs brushing as he idles next to her side before pressing forward once more. He finally stops before her, staring at her in renewed irritation. “Do you believe yourself to be better than me with your new status?” His words are sharp, sudden. Another snort escapes him, dismissing the very thought. “My darling girl, do not forget from where you are from.” His baritones have calmed, smoothing over the previous outburst. He can practically feel her tensing. “Be still, Jaidah. I am not here to take your worthless throne.” He is harsh with this, snapping his jaws at the end of his words as if to finalize them.
THERE is a small pause and then, “I have come to aid you.”
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